


Avalyn Mancini and The Lightning Thief

by TheAwkwardOne6



Series: Avalyn Mancini and The Olympians [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Crushes, F/M, Gay Male Character, Monsters, Muslim Character, Original Character(s), Other, Percy is a Dork, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-09 00:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardOne6/pseuds/TheAwkwardOne6
Summary: Avalyn Mancini was never supposed to find out she was a half-blood. She was supposed to finish school, get a degree, and take over her dad's mechanic shop. But now, thanks to Percy Jackson, that's ruined.(A retelling of the Percy Jackson series with an original character.)





	1. MRS. DODDS GOES MIA

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI: due to The Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo, I've moved the year up by nine. So it's 2009 in this story.

My life was never destined to be normal. Not in the slightest.

I wasn't a good kid. I wished I was, I liked to pretend, but deep down I know the truth. And I never knew why. I had two loving parents and stable home life. I was just prone to trouble.

My life is scary and dangerous and not at all what you would think. I'm not the hero of the story. No I'm just a sidekick. Heroes always have powerful parents and rise up in the face of evil.

I always wished I was either powerful or normal, not stuck in some middle ground.

My name is Avalyn Mancini.

I'm twelve years old. I used to go to a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for "kids who need special help" in upstate New York.

It wasn't that my parents didn't love me. It was that I had been kicked out of every other school in the area and they had no other choice.

I was going to have a normal, happy life. That was my destiny. I would graduate high school, get a degree in engineering, and take over my dad's mechanic shop. But then I met stupid Percy Jackson.

It happened last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman artifacts.

I know—it sounds amazing. I hoped to see Ancient Greek art of the Trojan War. It always fascinated me. I was reading the Iliad. Well, listening to a recording of it, but I digress.

Mr. Brunner, the Latin teacher, was leading this trip, which made it even better.

Mr. Brunner was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. He was basically that teacher you loved and would ale friends with at school. He told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had a collection of beautiful Roman armor and weapons. Students praising him was the main reason I took Latin as an elective. That, and I'm really just an overachiever.

I was so excited to learn more about Greek and Roman history. You see, my last name is Mancini, meaning I'm Italian, and Rome is located in present day Italy. In a way, I was learning about my heritage.

How freaking cool is that!

I loved field trips, especially if they were educational. People would often tell me that if I was the child of a Greek god, it would be Athena. I would then point out that Athena swore a vow of virginity, and they would say, "I rest my case."

I was hoping this trip would be the best.

All the way into the city, I was talking with my friend long time best friend, Naima Kader, a really sweet Muslim girl. Naima was only here because kids liked to bully her for her religion. For some reason teachers always assumed she started it. Her parents sent her here and my parents decided to let us stay together when I was expelled from yet another public school.

Naima was twelve, like me, so she didn’t wear hijab yet. Instead she wore her hair in two cute braids down her back.

I glanced over to the left and saw Nancy Bobofit hitting this weird kid, Grover, in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

"I'm really excited to look at all the Greek and Roman art," I jumped.

Naima smiled brightly. "Me too! Greek Mythology is so fascinating."

"Yeah, I'm halfway through with The Iliad and I really like it," I smiled

My friend giggled. "I'm not on your reading level. I also would never have the patience to sit there and read a huge book just for fun."

"Stop mocking me for reading War and Peace," I pouted.

"I'm not making fun of you, I'm jealous!" She grinned. "I'll make a deal. In High School we'll read Jane Eyre together. Okay?"

I nodded in agreement.

"Children, time to get off the bus."

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the large echoing galleries, past gorgeous marble statues and glass cases full of ancient black-and-orange pottery.

It was incredible that these artifacts had survived for thousands of year.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a giant sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was enthralled by what Mr. Brunner was saying. Naima also really liked it as she was a history buff. The only problem was Mrs. Dodds telling us to shut up when we were discussing how much effort must've gone into Greek art and statues.

Mrs. Dodds was a fifty year old woman from Georgia. She always wore a black leather jacket as though it made her cool. It was just weird. She was mean and no one but Nancy Bobofit liked her. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and gave her special privileges. She had a vendetta against our school candy dealer. She point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and everyone knew he was going to get after-school detention for a month.

There was an ongoing joke that she was actually a demon from hell. It didn't seem too out there.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and Percy turned around and said, "Will you shut up?"

It came out louder than he had obviously meant it to.

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

Percy's face was flushed as he said, "No, sir. "

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

He looked at the carving, and my eyes drifted to it. It was the story of how the gods came into existence. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because . . . "

"Well. . . " Percy shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Kronos was the king god, and—"

I cringed, dying to correct him.

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," he corrected himself. "And . . . he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" Naima squealed. I giggled at her and she playfully rolled her eyes.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won. "

I muffled a snicker, Naima telling me to be nice.

Nancy Bobofit mumbled to one of her friends, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids. '"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," the Grover guy muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

I grinned happily. Nancy Bobofit deserved to go to jail. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had horse ears.

Percy thought for a moment and shrugged. "I don't know, sir. "

It was important to know about Greek stories because Western Civilization is so heavily influenced by it. National monuments based on the Parthenon, popular literature based on myths, common terminology such as an "Achilles Heel." (But honestly, why couldn't he have just not worn sandals?)

"I see. " Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

As the class drifted off, Naima had a wrinkled nose. "Some myths are just plain weird."

"Wait until you hear the one about the Minotaur," I grinned.

She stared at me in contempt.

I heard behind me Mr. Brunner say, "Mr. Jackson. "

I sat with Naima on the water fountain.

Mrs. Dodds handed us our brown paper bags for lunch. I opened mine. "It's a ham sandwich."

She groaned.

I gave her my apple and pack of raisins, and she gave me the sandwich.

_"Bismillahi,"_ Naima whispered.

We both ate our food.

"I hate school food," I told her.

She nodded. "Everyone does."

We took another bite, talking about random things that popped up.

Naima finished her food and put it She away. Then she said, _"Alhamdulillah."_

She pulled out a large book. I didn't now what it was called because my dyslexia was acting up. "Do you mind if I read? It's really good and I've wanted to finish it for a while, but haven't had time to read it."

I nodded. "What's it called?"

"Harry Potter," she told me. "You've read it already. Dyslexia?"

I nodded.

"I'm sorry about that," she told me. "It must suck to love books so much and be unable to read most of the time."

It did suck. It was one of the reasons I acted out so much and slapped girls in the face. I only got into a physical fight once with a boys who called Naima a terrorist on 9/11. I don't know why he did that. She was the kindest and gentlest person I knew. He wasn't calling Christians evil because conquistadors destroyed so many Aztec and Mayan artifacts and documents because they "looked demonic".

The class was gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen in my life. I couldn't explain it because I wasn't that good at science, but I know the weather all across New York state had been unusual since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I prayed to God that it wasn't a hurricane.

Nobody else seemed to notice, not even Naima. And she liked science. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket someone, and Percy Jackson was looking around in confusion and fear.

Grover and him sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others and close to us. We didn't really mind. Percy was kind of funny and Naima had a weird crush on Grover that I didn't understand.

"Do you mind if we sit with you guys?" Grover asked.

Naima shook her head, blushing. "No, we don't."

I rolled my eyes at her and she giggled. She had a weird taste in boys, but I wasn't going to judge her on it. If she wanted to date Grover (I'm sorry, Muslim don't date, have an understanding with Grover or halal date Grover or whatever) she was allowed to and I could silently think it was the weirdest thing.

"So did Mr. Brunner get you in trouble?" I asked.

"Nah," Percy said. "Not from Brunner. He likes me. I do wish he'd lay off me sometimes, though. "

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then he said to Naima, "Can I have your apple?"

"Sorry, they gave us a ham sandwich, and Muslims aren't allowed to eat pork. So the apple is all I really have," she said kindly, looking really upset that she couldn't give her future-boyfriend anything.

Grover laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay," she said.

Percy gave Grover an apple, so if all worked out.

I wasn't really friends with these guys, but I definitely tolerated them more than some of the other students.

We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my family's apartment, not even that far away. It would be so easy to jump in a taxi and hide in my room until my father ran in and told me to go back before he threw away my books.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table.

Percy was about to unwrap his sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her mildly unattractive friends and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grovers lap.

"Oops. " She grinned with her crooked teeth. Honestly she made me hate freckles, and I usually thought they were the cutest thing ever.

Percy started shaking with anger. A wave roared and water picked up Nancy and threw her into the fountain. I was in shock.

Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

"Did you see the water?" One boy asked.

"It was like it grabbed her—" I said in wonder.

Naima stared at us in confusion. "What?"

Mrs. Dodds comforted Nancy, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop. She turned on Percy. "Now, honey—"

"I know," he grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks. "

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

A boy chanted, "Oh!"

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her. "

We all stared at him, stunned. No one could believe he was trying to cover for Percy. Mrs. Dodds scared everyone to death, especially Grover.

She glared at him and his whiskery chin trembled.

"I dont think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here. "

Grover looked at Percy desperately.

"Its okay, man," he told him. "Thanks for trying. "

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at Percy. "Now. "

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

Percy gave her a nasty look then turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at him to come on.

I probably blanked out. It happened a lot because of my ADHD

I cared more about how the water did that thing.

After several minutes, I was terrified. Screams and cries we're coming out of the museum. I started hyperventilating.

It started to rain.

When Percy got back, Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit never left, no matter now much I begged her from her. When she saw Percy, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

Grover stared at me in shock and horror. He mouthed the words 'her?'

We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr.

"Nancy what are you talking about?" Percy asked.

Grover's eyes widened as he muttered 'two.'

She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Where's Mrs. Dodds?" Percy asked.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Last I saw her she was with you."

Grover jumped and hesitantly said, "Who?"

"Not funny, man," Percy told him. "This is serious. "

Thunder boomed overhead.

Percy went over to Mr. Brunner.

"Okay, seriously, where's is she?" I asked.

Naima but her bottom lip and started at my face. "Avalyn, this Mrs. Dodds person doesn't exist… are you sick?"


	2. GROVER STARTS ACTING SUSPICIOUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avalyn starts questioning her sanity as everyone pretends Mrs. Dodds wasn't real. Everyone but Percy.

It was normal for me to experience an occasional weird thing happening, like a glass of water moving towards me without anyone putting force on it. But this—this was just plain weird.

For the rest of the school year, everyone just acted as if Mrs. Dodds was never a person. The students claimed that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen before and really didn't like—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Everyone except Percy Jackson.

He would spring an occasional Mrs. Dodds reference, "Five weeks of detention, honey," and I would laugh to let him know that I understood and I was terrified.

Eventually I confronted him about it. I told him that I remembered Mrs. Dodds and how she seemed to hate him so much, and now everyone had forgotten about her.

We formed an alliance. And as we met and discussed what was happening, we accidentally became friends.

He told me that when he mentioned the name Dodds to Grover, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist.

I would tell Percy about how Naima legitimately didn't remember Mrs. Dodds. She would get fed up with me when I continually referenced her and asked questions.

We both agreed that something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I could tell that he was hiding something from me. He wouldn't talk, but he knew what happened to Mrs. Dodds. (I just realized she was a Mrs. I wondered who would ever marry her.)

The freak weather continued, which didn't help. One night, a thunderstorm roared so loudly that i couldn't get any sleep. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Cs to Ds, which I cried to Naima for hours about.

I got expelled soon after for kicking an older boy in the groin after he called me stupid when he saw the 66 I made on my social studies test.

I was allowed to finish the year. I just wasn't invited to the next party.

One good thing did happen. When our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked Percy why he didn't study for the spelling test, he called him an old sot. The whole class burst into laughter. I couldn't believe he'd called Mr. Nicoll an old drunk.

As the year ended, I found myself looking forward to going home. I wanted my parents. I wanted their hugs and love and reassurance that I wasn't worth less to them because I wasn't the most academically intelligent when it came to school subjects. And I wanted to have regular sleepovers with Naima again.

The evening before finals, I was helping Percy study for Latin. He got so frustrated that threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across his dorm room.

"Jesus, Percy; calm down!" I said.

"No! There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces," he ranted. "And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it."

"Look I have dyslexia, so I use audible and hands-on techniques to learn instead," I told him. "Audiobooks work great. Singing little tunes and making small rhymes, remembering words in association with English words helps a lot too."

He looked at me. "You also have dyslexia?"

I blinked at him.

He paced the room, taking deep breaths. I felt really bad for him.

He took one last deep breath and picked up the mythology textbook. "I'm going to ask Mr. Brunner for help."

"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked.

He hesitantly nodded.

We walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunners door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

We were three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was likely Grovers said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

We froze.

I'm a sucker for gossip. It's one of my flaws, and even if I wasn't, I dare you to try not listening if you hear a student talking about a friend to an adult.

We inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"And what about Avalyn? She also knows. Could she also be…"

"I don't know," Mr. Brunner pause. "I'll take care of it. Don't mention anything to either of them."

"Sir, I . . . I cant fail in my duties again. " Grovers voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You havent failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of Percy's hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and grabbed Percy, running down the hall.

We slid down, my hand covering his mouth.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunners office door, the shadow of something much taller than the wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

Percy opened the nearest door and we slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

I stayed to heavily breathe, terrified of getting caught.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves havent been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "Youve got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Dont remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunners office.

We waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, we slipped out into the hallway and made out way back up to our respective dorms.

Naima was lying on her bed and reading her notes. Her brown hair was braided because she had a lot of it and it would get in her face.

I popped down, face-first, into the bed next to her.

"Hey," she said. "You good?"

I mumbled an answer that was muffled by the mattress.

"Is it that stupid Mrs. Dodds thing again?" She huffed. "I thought you finally let that go!"

"It's just… I'm not going here next year. What if I never get to see you, except for summers, and we stop being friends?" I burst into tears, sobbing.

Naima crawled on top of my bed and started hugging me tightly. "That's not going to happen, Avalyn. We're hopefully going to go to the same high school."

"If I don't get expelled first…"

She squeezed me tighter.

On the last day of school, I angrily shoved my clothes and iPods and earbuds into my suitcase.

I went to the front of the school with Naima. Her dad was there, ready to pick her up. She saw him and immediately ran to hug him.

I stood there, waving at him. The Kaders were family friends. Naima's dad met my dad in college and they were best friends. My dad was kind of crazy in college (I mean, hello, I came out of it) so Mr. Ahmed was probably the most incredible person ever to be able to put up with him. But he was the best man at my parent's wedding, so they definitely cared about each other. Now, you might be wondering how me and Naima are the same age. She was adopted from Morocco when she was five.

"Hey, Avalyn! How are you?" Mr. Ahmed asked me.

I said, "Good. How are my parents doing?"

"Oh, they're great," he grinned through his large beard. "They miss you a lot. They got caught up with work and can't bring you home themselves, but they wanted me to give you a twenty for the bus and let you know they have a surprise as an apology."

I smiled as he handed me the money.

"Avalyn!" Naima's little brother, Rayan, squealed. He was seven and he absolutely loved me.

There was a two year old girl, Farrah, strapped into a car seat. She was sleeping.

"Hey!" I grinned at him. He squealed.

The Kaders felt like a second family to me. I loved Mr. Ahmed as if he were my uncle, his wife as if she were my aunt, and Naima and her siblings as if they were my cousins.

"Guess what!" Rayan giggled. "Guess!"

"I don't know," I told him.

His smile was wide and happy. "I'm turning this in six months!"

Rayan held up eight fingers.

"That's so cool!" I ruffled his brown hair.

Naima and Rayan waved goodbye as they took off. I waved back.

I went back into the school, dreading having to say goodbye too Percy. But it turned out that we both lived in Manhattan so we took the same train to the city. Percy and I exchanged our home phone numbers.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It was getting really annoying.

Finally, Percy couldnt stand it anymore.

He said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I told him about how we were eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grovers eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. Whats the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, guys . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—" I snapped.

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, youre a really, really bad liar," Percy told him.

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out two grubby business cards. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was hard enough for normal people to read, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"Whats Half—" Percy started.

"Dont say it aloud!" he yelped. "Thats my, um . . . summer address. "

I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," Percy said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why would I need you?" He asked.

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

"And why do I have one too?" I asked him.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you, Percy. And I want Avalyn to be safe, too."

We stared at him.

"Grover," Percy said, "what exactly are you protecting us from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that wed all have to get off. We filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place youd notice if you didnt break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three women all dressed the same sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree.

All three women looked ancient, and I'm not trying to be disrespectful. They looked like they could've been around st the dawn of time, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

Grover's nose was twitching.

"Grover?" Percy said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me theyre not looking at you. They are, arent they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "What socks?"

"This isn't happening, please tell me this isn't happening."

They stated at the women for a while. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told us. "Come on. "

"What?" I said.

"It's a thousand degrees in there!" I argued

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but me and Percy stayed back.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, Percy started shivering.

"You okay, man?" I asked.

He nodded.

Grover didn't look happy. His teeth were chattering.

"Grover?" Percy asked.

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling us?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? Theyre not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn."

I remembered stories about the Fates, but that couldn't be right.

Grover closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that mightve been crossing himself, but it wasnt. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?"

I sat back. "I am so confused right now. I saw literally nothing."

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I dont want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," Percy said. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

He did.

"Is this a superstition or something? You know those are scientifically unfounded, right?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?" Percy asked

He looked at him mournfully.


	3. I GET ATTACKED BY A DEMON DOG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avalyn goes home with her parents for the summer. But when a trip to a haunted hotel goes wrong, she gets dragged into the car.

So we ditched kinda Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m a horrible person and should be arrested for theft of oxygen, I know. But both Percy and Grover were terrifying me with the talk of invisible old ladies, "Why does this always happen?", and "Why does it always have to he sixth grade?"

As soon as we got off the bus, he made us both promise to wait for him, then ran for the restroom. Me and Percy got our luggage and went for our own separate ways. 

Now, before you meet my parents, there’s a few things you should know.

My dad is Christopher Mancini-Levine. He’s kind and he cares about everyone, and his life wasn’t easy. Before he was married, when he was just Christopher Mancini, his parents kicked him out of the house at age fifteen after they caught him alone in his room with another boy. He was taken in by his grandparents, who proceeded to disown his parents for disowning him. He finished high school with a C and started college majoring in engineering. He started seeing a lot of different people, but could never find someone he actually loved. He became friends with Mr. Ahmed, who was studying psychology, and they became fast friends. 

He met my birth mother when he was nineteen years old at the beach. She didn’t like him at first. She didn’t like anyone. The only reason she was there was because her ex-boyfriend, who she was still friends with, dragged her. But she found herself accidentally falling for him. 

I can’t remember her. My dad doesn’t like talking about her because it brings back bad memories. There are no pictures of her anywhere. 

My birth mother had taken a vow of some sort, so when she agreed to go out with my dad, they had to kerf it a secret. Then one day she stopped calling him back and completely disappeared. 

Nine months later I showed up at my dad’s doorstep. 

Everyone told him he couldn’t do it. Everyone said to give me up for adoption. He was about to. But then he got stuck with he for a whole night and decided to try being a dad. He had help from friends and family to finish classes and raise he. 

Finally, he met James Levine when I was two. They started dating pretty quickly and my dad fell head over heals in love with him. I took to calling James “papa,” and when I was older, “father,” and Chris “dad.” I can’t remember a time before him if we’re being honest. They got married when I was four. I was the flower girl. Well, not legally married. At least yet, anyways. (Fingers crossed!) They decided to hyphenate each other’s last names. My father legally adopted me when I was six. 

My parents are sickeningly sweet to each other. The way my father loved my dad, the way they loved me... well, all of my teachers wonders where my attitude came from. It was probably because my birth mother abandoned me. I may love my father, but someone still decided they didn’t want me anymore. 

I walked into our apartment, hoping to find my parents doing productive things. Instead, my dad was on the counter and had his arms around my father, passionately making out with him. I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Why did my parents have to make out with each other all the time? (“Because we love each other, Avalyn.”)

I screeched, "EWWWW."

They frantically broke apart. My dad hopped off the counter. "Uhh, hey sweetie. Back from school?"

"Yeah," I said. "And I walked into my parents making out in the kitchen."

My father snorted, and in his British accent, said, “My parents used to do the same thing to me, Avalyn. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that your parents love each other so much and they have to show it some times.”

At that, my dad laughed and kissed him again, this time sweeter. This time I didn’t mind it as much for some reason. 

My dad was thirty-two years old. He was blonde and tall, like me. But his eyes were blue and mine were green. People often described my eyes as glowing, and I guess it was kind of true. My eyes were pretty unique, which I liked. 

“Why was your hand in his pants?” I asked him. 

He jumped up and immediately shouted, “We’ll tell you when you’re older!”

My father laughed. He was brunette, hazel eyed, and British. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a handsome face with a mischievous glint to it. He was extremely muscular and my dad liked running his hands over his chest. It was weird. 

“Well, guess what?” My father said. 

I perked up. “Yeah?”

“Actually, we’ll tell you in a little bit. Go out your stuff down in your room,” he grinned. 

My father was a police officer, and as I mentioned before, my dad a mechanic. My father’s hours are crazy so I don’t get to see him that much. Any time with him was the most precious thing. 

I closed the door to my room. It was light pink because pink is a good color, I will fight you on that. It was small, has a twin sized bed, and a drawer to put my clothes in. 

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. I loved being home. 

Being around my parents, who I loved a lot when they weren’t embarrassing me, was the best feeling in the world. I loved them and they made me feel so at ease that I forgot about Mrs. Dodds. 

I heard my dad’s voice. "Avalyn?" He opened the bedroom door and stepped inside, closing it again. “You should sit down.”

I knew what was coming up. My expulsion from Yancy Academy. I sat don the bed. Dad joined me. “In my defense, Yancy expelled a lot of kids.

He moved some of my hair bending me cheek and held me tight. "You know I don’t like having to have this conversation, but you were expelled. Again."

Tears welled in my eyes. “I know.”

“I need to know that you’re trying to be good,” he told me. “Because this is the third school you’ve been kicked out of.”

“…I’ll try harder next time…” I mumbled. 

My dad shook his head. “We can’t do that. Your father and I are middle class. It’s too much money to send you to another private school. We’re homeschooling you for a year. Then we can try a public school for junior high. Okay?”

I sighed in relief. I hated private schools. I hated being away from my family. I squeezed my father into a tight hug. “Okay.”

“And Naima is going to the same one,” he told me, hugging me back. 

“Hey, can I get in on this?” My father asked. 

My dad motioned for him to come in, and he jumped onto the bed, attacking us with hugs. I giggled. He kissed my dad’s forehead softly. He leaned into it. 

“We’re going to a haunted hotel,” my father said, grinning. 

My eyes widened in excitement. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, booping me on the nose like he would when I was younger. 

I smiled widely. 

My dad is the dorkiest and sweetest man in the world. My father was the most romantic and loyal person ever. They deserved each other and I was lucky to me raised by two people who loved me, and each other, so much. 

We left about thirty minutes later. 

My father loaded our suitcases into the car and hopped into the driver’s seat. My dad got in the passengers seat and I got in the back. I was bouncing excitedly. I love haunted things. I think ghosts are real and anything supernatural fascinated me. My father was the same way. My dad, not so much. But this was a family getaway. 

We pulled up to the haunted hotel and parked. My father got out my suitcase and handed it to me. I thanked him and walked with my dad to the entrance. 

“Hello, I’d like to check-in for James Mancini-Levine. I’m Christopher Mancini-Levine, his partner,” Dad told the check-in lady. 

She nodded and typed into the computer before handing him the key card. “Enjoy your stay!”

I knew he hated having to call him his “partner.” If he were with a woman he could call her his wife, but not with my father. Not yet, at least. 

My father walked in with our luggage and we took the elevator to the fourth floor, room 810. We opened the door and immediately I sat on the couch. It was comfy. 

You could tell there was a presence in the room watching you. It was scary and thrilling all at the same time. 

Dad pulled out a CD and put it on the TV. Him and my father sat next to me, entangled in each other. Why do parents always be extra affectionate around their children to weird them out? It’s weird. 

I had to deal with my father kissing my dad’s neck the whole time. They really did love each other. It was gross. I’m never going to fall in love. 

Eventually the movie ended. My father set up a tape to listen to the ghosts talk. We asked them questions. How they died. How they left about us staying here. If they missed eating. 

The hotel had two rooms, so my parents went into the master bedroom and I went into the smaller one. 

There was a sudden avid feeling of danger. Every fiber of my body was on alert. Something was telling me to be careful. It was a foreign feeling. 

As I lay in my bed, I heard growling and things falling over. My heart was pounding and I was terrified. I wasn’t sure what my religious beliefs were—my dad was a Christian but my father didn’t follow a religion—but I was praying my heart out that this was just the ghosts. It didn’t feel like ghosts. What felt like ghosts were the wails screaming in my head, clawing at me.

Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. Stood up and crept to my parents bedroom, but I halted. I heard groans and kisses and could see the faint outline of bodies moving together. Something told me to not go in there if I didn’t want to be scared for life. 

I turned back to my room when I suddenly came face to face with a dog. It wasn’t just any dog. It had mangled black fur and glowing red eyed. I screamed. 

It went to attack me, but I ran into my room and grabbed my pocket knife, slashing at it. I heard footsteps running.

My father came into my bedroom half-naked and carrying a bronze sword. I stared up at him in horror as he cut the dog in half. It faded into dust. I was shaking. 

“You’re a half-blood,” he whispered, staring at me in shock. 

My eyes darted around in a panic. “I’m a what?”

“There’s no time to explain! Chris, get into the car! We’re leaving!” He yelled, throwing on a shirt and grabbing the keys. 

My dad walked out, exhausted. “Baby, what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you right now,” My father grabbed the keycard, opening the door. “But you just have to trust me. We’re leaving.”

That woke my dad up. “What?”

I was so confused. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “Papa? Daddy? What’s going on?”

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” my father kissed me on the forehead. “But we have to leave.”

I didn’t want to. But because I loved my parents with an aching devotion, I followed in suit. 


	4. MY FATHER MURDERS A DOGGO

I was terrified. It was dead night and I didn’t know what was happening as we sped through the night sky. I live in New York City and wasn’t used to the opens fields flooded with rain. Farms with white picket fences. Wind so strong it felt like it could flip the car. Rain pouring like all hell broke loose. I was shaking the whole time, my father sitting confused.

Lightning flashed every so often, making me jump. My dad seemed to be confused, not knowing what was going on. I wanted to cry in my confusion, but I didn’t. I wanted to crawl into my father’s lap and cry as my dad stroked my hair, but I didn’t. 

I looked out the window and back to my father, “Where are we going, Father?”

His eyes were trained to the road. “A summer camp,” he said. “I think it’ll be a really good place for you. “

“What?” 

“Where is she going?” My dad asked, utterly confused

“Love, we talked about this,” he told him in a really sketchy voice, making eye contact. “Remember? “

“Oh,” he said. 

“Papa, I’m scared,” I told him. 

“I know, sweetie, but you’re gonna be okay—”

“Babe? Why is there a bulldog chasing after us?” Dad asked, frowning. 

I turned to look and started crying again. It wasn’t a bulldog, it was the same thing as what attacked me the day before. 

“Avalyn, I want you to get out of the car and run forward. I’ll meet you there in a second,” my father said scarily calm. “Chris, take the car and drive home.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.“

“I can’t leave! How will you get back home?“ My dad asked

My father jumped out of the car, picking me up. “I’ll call you to pick me up later.”

My dad hesitated before my father yelled “go! go!” and he sped off. 

I was set down and my dad pulled out his sword again. I started panicking, terrified of my father as he stabbed into the dog and it faded into dust. 

“Okay, Avalyn, let’s go,” he took my hand and we ran off. I was in too much shock to protest.

We saw a car racing towards us and we picked up speed. There was a large pine tree ahead of us. My father pulled we through and I collapsed.

My father picked me up and started carrying me. I felt him walk me towards this huge house. “It’s the same as I remember it.” I heard him mutter. “I never thought that I would’ve back here. Never thought my daughter would be a half-blood.“

“What does that mean, Papa?”

“Nothing, darling. It’s okay.”

He walked up to the door and set me down, opening it. “Chiron! Chiron! I need some help.”

My eyes widened at the sight of Mr. Brunner. He looked normal from the waist-up, but from the waist down he was a white horse. I started crying again. 

“Avalyn?  James? ” Mr. Brunner asked incredulously. How did he know my father? “What’s going on here?“

“This is my daughter, Avalyn. I’m guessing you taught her this year,” he said. “Well, it turns out she’s a half-blood.”

“Daughter?”

“Yeah, my daughter,” he held me close to him. 

“Well, how did that happen?” Mr. Brunner-centaur-man asled, seemingly shocked that he had a family. 

My father shrugged. “I met the right guy and fell in love with him and his two-year-old daughter. They’re my whole world.”

Why was my father calling my teacher Chiron? Why did he  look like Chiron? Why were they talking like old friends. My brain hurt. 

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Mr. Brunner look at my trembling face with pity in his eyes. “So how did her being a half-blood happen, exactly?”

“My parter—Chris—he’s attracted to men and women,” he explained. “Well, when he was in college he met a girl and started dating her. One day she started to completely ignore him. Nine months later, Avalyn showed up with a short note explaining she was his. I think that girl might have been a…”

“Ah,” Mr. Brunner nodded. “Avalyn? Come here. It’s okay.”

“Go on, love. Chiron is safe, I promise,” my father told me. 

I hesitantly walked forward.

“Take a seat.“

I sat down, my father sitting next to me. The couch was really comfortable. I was trying to focus on anything other than how confused and scared I was. I didn’t like this at all. 

My father took a seat right next to me. I looked at him, begging for some sort of explanation. “Avalyn, right now you’re at a camp for very special kids.”

_Oh. _

“When I was fourteen, my mom immigrated to the United States of America. I had to leave everything I knew behind,” he said. I knew the story of how my grandma brought him here already, so I didn’t know where he was going with this. “I started seeing things. Monsters. It was terrifying. A young boy my age found me and brought me here. Avalyn, you know those Greek Gods you love so much?”

I nodded. 

“Avalyn, they’re real,” my father said, “and your biological mother is a goddess.”

My eyes widened and my heart stopped. No way. It wasn’t possible. My birth mother was a horrible, selfish woman who abandoned me for a nineteen year old boy to raise on his own. She wasn’t—she couldn’t be a goddess! Greek mythology wasn’t real. It were just stories. Myths. Tales of people who’s stories were exaggerated. I shook my head. “No.”

My father stared at me. “Then explain Chiron.” He pointed at my centaur ex-teacher. “Come on! Logically explain how he has the lower body of a horse if Greek Mythology is just that—myths?

I started crying again. No no no no no no no. Everything I knew was a lie. All of it. 

My father hugged me close to him and I started sobbing my eyes out. You would think that for a person so in love with Greek Mythology, I would be ecstatic. I wasn’t. I was just sad and confused and hoping this was a dream, I would wake up, and go to my regular life. 

“This camp is for demigods. It’s a safe space, literally and figuratively,” my father told me. “I have a lot of memories. I met my first boyfriend here—son of Demeter. I  dated a lot of other guys here too.” 

Mr— Chiron snorted indignantly. “That’s one way of saying it.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I trained, I went on a quest when I was seventeen, but I always wanted to be normal. So when I turned eighteen I left the world of monsters, gods, and fighting behind me, went to college for a little while, and met your dad.”

“Which god is your parent?” I asked him. “If this place is a camp for demigods, which god is your dad?“

“Hermes,“ he answered. 

“The god of thieves?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re a police officer,” I said. 

He laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

I laughed back at him. 

“Sir?” A girl my age with blonde hair ran in. She had princess curls and looked very pretty. Her gray eyes looked like they could calculate every fact about you just from a glance. I immediately wanted to become her friend. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but there’s a boy with Grover. He’s fighting something. It looks bad.” 

Chiron straightened up. “Thank you, Annabeth.” So that was the pretty girl’s name! “Let’s go and help him. James, why don’t you and your daughter sleep in here tonight? We can get her situated in Cabin 11 tomorrow. Then you can call your partner and get him to pick you up.”

“Okay,” he said before the two left. My father immediately turned to me. “So what do you want to know?”

“How come me and you can see the monsters, but dad can’t?” I asked.

“It’s called the Mist,” he answered. “Your father is completely mortal. The Mist obscures his ability to see the supernatural, rationalizing what’s going on in a way that won’t break his mind.”

“Okay.” I didn’t like that. It felt wrong. Unfair. But I guessed I understood. I didn’t want to believe any of this either. “How do you pull the sword from thin air?”

He laughed, smiling kindly at me. “The Mist makes my sword look like a leather bracelet. It’s not, really, and metal detectors don’t pick it up, so I bring it with me everywhere.”

I did notice that the bracelet he usually wore was off, and a sword in a sheath was at his side instead. “Can I have a sword.”

“Not yet,” he brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I’m worried for you, Avalyn. It’s hard, being a half-blood. I fight monsters every day at work. I can only hope your birth mum is a minor goddess.”

I nodded. “Naima said that if I was a demigod, my godly parent would be Athena. Does she… have children?”

“Yes, a few,” he said. “I dated one once—“

“You dated a lot of boys,” I realized for the first time. I’d never imagined other people. It felt like my parents had only ever been with each other. 

My father chuckled. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. I love your dad way too much to ever do that to him.” 

I smiled, relieved that one thing remained the same. “Am I ever going to see Naima again?”

“Of course you will!” He told me. “You can write letters for now, and you two are going to the same high school! If you don’t get expelled, that is.”

I nodded, determined to be good in ninth grade because I missed my best friend. After I started getting drowsy, my father gave me a blanket and tucked me in. I fell asleep. 


End file.
